Diary of a Hippo
by musicnotes093
Summary: But believe it or not, they're not the only ones having that kind of relationship. There are more things going on in Mommy's team than you see.' Bert the Hippo-centric. Tabby? McAbby? McGiva? Wanna know? Well, read on!
1. Introduction to the Hippo Diary

**_Author's Note: Written for a challenge in NFA! Whoo! I hope you enjoy reading Bert's Diary._**

**_Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters (including Bert) do not belong to me. They belong to their rightful owners. _**

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**Introduction to the Hippo Diary**

**-You know. The usual stuff. The bit-ness, blah-di-blah-di-blah…-**

Well, you were curious enough to wonder what a Hippo's diary has, weren't you? I mean, I'm not attacking you. I'm just warning you of how things would go. I tend to be random at times, kind of like ADD. How random, you ask?

_**I.E:**_I could be telling you about the most beautiful, almost incredible story about my Mommy and Daddy, and then an ant would pass by. I could digress and start telling you about the first time I was bitten by one. Which, you know, didn't hurt at all! 'Cause my 'skin' is made of—

Sorry.

Anyways, I think it would be _proper_ (that word is funny…) if I introduce myself.

Hi. My name is Bert. Otherwise known as Bert the Hippo! My Mommy, **Abigail Sciuto**, gave me that name. I didn't like it at first, since Mommy gave me a guy name when I'm clearly **a girl**. But overtime it had gotten okay. I mean, she had no way to tell. All she had was the tag stitched on my left foot. The name grew on me. Besides, that's not the worst feature I got. I fart. A lot. With contact and pressure.

So I don't have any reason to complain.

I was made in ol' sunny California. The best beads were used for my eyes, the best cloth for my 'skin', the loudest whoopee cushion were used for my dysfunctional 'fun' feature, and the softest cotton to make me really huggable, before they stuff it through my…um…

Yeah.

I was actually bought for my Mommy. She was so happy when she saw me. I was bundled inside a plastic bag, her slender fingers parting it away when they covered my face, as she nestled me in her arms. "He's so cute!" Mommy squealed at Daddy.

"I knew you'd like him," Daddy had said.

Then Mommy jumped up and hugged him, squishing _moi_ between them. You know what happened next, don't you?

No. Not that.

What happened next was that I farted.

When they pulled away from their hug, I thought Mommy would not like me anymore. I was wrong. She hugged me tight. I felt her heart beating, letting me know that she loved me more.

Since then, Mommy and I were inseparable. At least when she wasn't on a date. And wasn't working.

_Where does she work? _you ask? She works for NCIS. Navy Crime Internal Service. Or was it Naval Criminal Investigative Service? Either one, she works for them. She's a forensic scientist, and she had brought me to work a couple of times. It was pretty cool.

Her boss, **Sir Gibbs**, is the man. He's _the_ man, I tell you! Every time they have a case, and his gut tells him something, he always turns out right. (I wonder what he eats to make his gut like that.) He was a Marine sniper. Mommy said he was awesome, and I believe her. Sir Gibbs is awesome.

**Ziva**, her friend, is good at fighting and can speak a lot of languages. Mommy's friends with her, so I'm friends with her also.

**McGee**. Mommy used to date him, but I never did like him. He's shady. And weird.

And finally, my Daddy. **Anthony DiNozzo! **I love my Daddy. He's so smart with all the movies, and he's funny! Maybe that was why Mommy like him a lot. Sir Gibbs slaps him a lot on the head, which scares me sometimes (especially when _McGeek_ is the one who gets him in trouble). I don't want him to have an amnesia and forget about me and Mommy.

I don't want to be an orphan!

But for now, I love seeing Mommy and Daddy together. They call the other their 'friend' when I can clearly see the sideway glances they throw at each other. It's full of love and wonder and secret and all of those stuff that makes me want to squeal.

Or pass gas, for that matter.

But believe it or not, they're not the only ones having that kind of relationship. There are more things going on in Mommy's team than you see.

That's why I'm opening my Diary to all of you who are interested. Maybe you want to know about that instance when I spent time over Ziva's house and McGee came. When she cried to him and told him about Somalia. (Which was very sad, and changed the way I view Tim. _A little_) Maybe you also want to know about Mommy and Daddy's dance together?

I have recorded what I've seen (or will see) in my life in this Diary, and I hope you would enjoy it. After all, it's _rare_ for someone to just post their Diary online in a no-holds barred type of format.

So. Are you ready to see the first entry? You sure? Okay. Here we go!

**Signed,**

**Bert the Hippo **

**_11:07 PM_**

**_What's the date again today?_**

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**A review would be nice... And I think the green button down there is just longing to be clicked on... =)**


	2. CaffPow Means I Love You

**_Author's Note: Most of the time, when people leave comment for my stories, I send them a PM to thank them. Unfortunately, I couldn't because (a) there were a lot of you who left FABULOUS and heart-warming reviews, and (b) I didn't have time this week. So now, I'll take the time to thank the following people! _**

**_Gail Cregg gibby101 pia angeleyes46 Candy Ride-DiNozzo Stagelizard uvasoccerchick93 ann_**

**_Thanks so much, guys! Please, everyone, enjoy the first entry!_**

**_Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters still do not belong to me._**

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**-:: Entry One ::-**

'**Chocolate Equals Clue, Caff Pow Means **_**I Love You'**_

Okay. I'm not that good with titles, especially with my diary entries. But hopefully you'll be alright with it. =D

I don't know about most of you, but I think giving chocolates to the girl (or boy, if you're really mad about him) you like is _so_ old fashioned. **McGee** used to give **Mommy** boxes before, but thank goodness he stopped doing that!

Really? It's already the twenty-first century!

**Disadvantages of giving chocolates:**

**1) You might end up spending so much money for a box of Swiss chocolates then find out later on that your girlfriend/boyfriend will not eat it. What? You didn't know they think it would make them "fat" ? **

**2) What if you accidentally gave a piece of chocolate to your 'significant other' with nuts in it? And you didn't know he's/she's allergic? Here's a tip for you bud: Make sure you can differentiate 9 from 4 and 1 from 7 when dialing that three digit numero. **

**3) One night, your girl/boy might offer you a box to share with them. And you, being so concentrated on him/her and the box of chocolate, 'accidentally' sat on ****ONE SLEEPING HIPOPPOTAMUS!**

Guess which one McGee did. Yeah. Uh-huh. You're right.

I wouldn't even mind being sat on, if only I wasn't dreaming about my crush. I forgot his name, though. He's that blond hair, blue-eyed guy in 'Musical High School'—or was it 'High Musical School'?—that I dreamed about. Well, whatever. It was the perfect scene. We were walking, hand-in-cotton paw, towards the horizon, through a beautiful beach.

Well, come to think about it. I think he was dragging me through the sands…

But still! It's very rude to sat on someone's face while they're sleeping!

*sigh*

Anyways, I think today, it's way cooler to give someone a **LCoCP**! What does that mean, you ask?

**L**arge

**C**up

**O**f

**C**aff

**P**ow

**Exclamation Point!**

My **Daddy** always remembers to give Mommy that. And **Sir Gibbs **also. He gives Mommy that, but only when they're on a case. When Daddy visits Mommy, he's always armed with **LCoCP**. I cannot stress enough how important that is.

**Advantages of giving Caff-Pow:**

**1) Just the sound of it! Caff and Pow. It's cool!**

**2) Your darlin' could use the little 'oomph' the drink can give! **

**3) Sometimes (it depends on your guy/gal), Caff-Pow will get you a reward. A kiss, more likely. **

Mommy gives Sir Gibbs a kiss most of the time because of **LCoCP**, but it's just on the cheeks. When Daddy gives Mommy that, he gets **NOTHING**. **Zilch**. **Nada. **And I really can't understand why. She looks like she wanted to kiss him, but she's hesitating. I don't know the deal about Daddy. He's just happy all of the time, and I guess he doesn't really notice.

*shrug*

But there was this one special time when a **LCoCP** got Daddy and Mommy somewhere. It was _May 27 2005 _then (I think), and it had just been three days since Mommy's friend, **Miss Kate**, died. It was so quiet at our home. It's like the silence is piercing your ears all of the time. And when there's a little noise, it's always Mommy crying about Miss Kate.

We were always stuck on her bed (I refused to call it casket at the time…) at nights, in the darkness, not moving. She always held me close to her, and it was painful to hear her breathe with despair. Her tears, when they fell on my back, felt like bullets. I **HATED** it. I was wishing that someone would come and help her. I didn't even mind if McGee came.

Then the doorbell rang that night. "Go 'way!" Mommy yelled, her voice strained with sadness.

"Abby, open up," Daddy spoke, sounding determined, knocking hard on the door.

"Go away, Tony," Mommy yelled. "Please."

"You can't stay like this forever. Let me in."

Mommy placed me down hastily and stomped towards the door. I heard the door's high-pitched creak then, "What do you want?" I heard her say.

"I got you a Caff-Pow," Daddy said quietly, his small smile evident on the tone of his voice.

"I don't need it. Go away." (I think I should put this as a **disadvantage** of bringing a **LCoCP**)

No one was saying anything for a moment, and I was getting worried. But Daddy spoke again. "Never like this," he said in a whisper.

"What?"

"I never thought everything would end up like this. Never."

"Tony—"

"And I can't lose you, too, Abby. Never like this. I'd do anything to protect you. I can't let what happened to Kate happen to you. If I have to die—"

"Don't ever talk like that."

"I'm sorry." Silence. "Wouldn't you take your Caff-Pow? I ran through the rain just to get it for you."

Mommy sighed, and I heard her take the cup from him. "Come in. You'll freeze out there."

The door was shut not long after. Daddy and Mommy stood outside the door of our room, and I did notice that Daddy was drenched. Both of them held solemn expressions on their faces, so I got sadder. It was really unusual for Daddy to be like that. And Mommy, too.

"You have to change, Tony. You'll get sick," Mommy said, helping Daddy out of his black cardigan jacket.

"Okay. But I won't wear a short skirt and boots," he grinned.

Mommy glared at him. "You can wear my Van Halen t-shirt," she said, hanging his jacket on the bathtub. She walked inside our room and headed inside the closet. She turned on the light, and it blinded me a _wee_ bit. "You still have a pair of jeans in here. The acid-washed one," she said, rummaging through the pile of freshly laundered clothes.

Daddy followed her inside. "Why do you have that?" he asked.

"Remember when Ari tried to, you know, and you decided to stay here with me? You left some of your clothes."

"Oh."

Mommy began sorting through another stack, and then she stopped. She turned around, her eyes puffy and red again. "Thank you, Tony," she said. Daddy didn't have time to open his mouth to answer. Mommy have already had him in a tight hug by then. Daddy sighed contently, Mommy's hair rustling beneath him. Then, he hugged her, too. When Mommy 'disengaged' from the hug, Daddy held her face delicately. He gave her a kiss on the forehead.

So you could tell how hard I was trying to smother the squeal rising up in me.

That's just one of the things that can happen when you bring a **LCoCP **with you. You get a hug! And you make your stuff toy-slash-child become extremely happy that night!

And I guess having feelings for each other help, too. I mean, if you think about it, even if you give a person that don't know you a thousand Caff-Pow, you can't make them kiss you. Or hug you.

And above all, love you.

Well, that's the first entry.

**Signed, **

**Bert the Hippo **

**Up and Out! ;)**

_**10:54 PM**_

_**Date: Yep. It would've been nice if I had one.**_

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**Please leave a review! =)**


	3. When I Grow Up

**_Author's Note: Thanks to the following who left kind reviews! I can't send any PM to personally thank any of you because of my busy, busy schedule! So, I'll just do it here!_**

**_--beyondtired: Well, I try my best to make a good Tabby story. I just thought it would be cute if Bert was also saying that her Daddy and Mommy's meant to be! ;)_**

**_--Ann and angeleyes46: I will try!_**

**_--uvasoccerchick93: Aw...gosh *blushes* Thanks..._**

**_--pinkdrama: Thanks! I hope you'll continue to enjoy this!_**

**_Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters do not belong to me! =)_**

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**-:: Entry Two ::-**

'**When I Grow Up'**

When you were little, what did you want to be when you grow up? Mommy told me once that she wanted to be **Marilyn Monroe**, and I thought that was pretty awesome.

I mean, who doesn't want to wear that really pretty white dress and get away with it?

I tried imagining myself to be Ms. Marilyn. Yeah. It didn't work.

Daddy, I think, wanted to be a **sailor**. I remember him telling Mommy about how his mom used to dress him in sailor suit when he was little. Then again, I think he wants to be a **movie star**! I imagined him being on TV, right after his career had taken off the ground, on a very popular show every Tuesday nights. Maybe he could be on a crime show! Or—this is going to sound great—maybe even on a show about NCIS!

Wouldn't that be awesome?

I would watch that show a lot. Would you?

Anyways. Back to topic. I think when I was little (or when I was _made_, if you want to be technical about it), I wanted to be a **cheerleader**. Maybe it started when I saw a group of them at a football game. They look beautiful and when they do their stunts, they go hard! Plus, I saw one of the guys drooling as one of the girls did a split.

Yeah. I know he thought their routine was awesome, too!

If I'll have a uniform, I'd like to wear something that's a mix of blue and black. And cheer for a team called 'The Sharks'. Wouldn't that be fantastic? Me in a short skirt and half-the-cloth-but-double-the-price top? That would be pretty neat.

But maybe I won't be as pretty as the other girls. Not as pretty as **Sarah**, McGee's younger sister, was when I saw her in that video.

_Sarah? In a video?! _you ask? Well, Mommy had to go to Los Angeles then, and she didn't want to leave me alone at home. Daddy was somewhere else, too. I don't know why she didn't ask Ziva. Maybe she forgot. Instead, she asked McGee.

And in case you wanted to know, I'm making a face right now.

So there I was. In his apartment. Sitting in his "Silence of the Lambs" of a house. At first I really didn't mind. Then he went to his car to get something, and **Jethro his dog **decided that, "Hey. Why don't we make a chew toy out of the stuffed hippo who's resting peacefully on the couch? Oh, wait! Maybe we can also slobber on her, too!" He stood up from his bed.

Then my fate was decided.

As he wiggled me around, I had the strong urge to scream and puke. At the same time. I farted, like, six times, since Jethro slammed me into the wall—yep—six times. I think the sound of it, which is like a chopper's blades while in the air, amused the dog.

He only stopped when McGee yelled and snatched me away.

And I loved McGee then. Just that once, mind you.

"I'm sorry, Bert," McGee told me, sitting me on the couch beside him. "Jethro is just…excited to see a visitor."

Oh yeah. Like I'm going to buy that. I know, I _know _that that dog is pure E-V-I-L.

"Jethro," he called the dog. Jethro jumped in front of him, and then lowered his head to the floor when he realized that McGee was glaring at him. "Don't do that again, boy. If you want to live, don't chew on Bert. Abby's going to get us."

Jethro only whined.

McGee picked up the remote control atop the coffee table, focused it in front of the VHS player, and then pushed play. "Okay, let's watch this video," he muttered to himself.

And there I had it. A video of him and his family during Sarah's cheerleading competition when she was a senior at Sum'n High School. It was glamorous! They had **green and white **banners and signs **EVERYWHERE**. Sarah's team was wearing the same colors, too. If McGee hadn't commented to Jethro about it being a contest, I would've kept thinking they were just celebrating that Irish day. Hmm. I forgot what it was called.

Anyways, I fell asleep. Oh, come on. I know you fall asleep while you watch movies, too! Only this time, it wasn't the quick bright lights or the rude movie-goers that run over your feet when it's time to go that woke me up. I think McGee received an important call, so he rushed out of his apartment then slammed the door.

To my dismay, I noticed that Jethro was previously asleep, too (his eyes were just looking everywhere—at every nook and crannies—that he could see just to know what happened). I was fine, until he saw me. Again. He sought for McGee, but he did not find him.

If a dog could smile, his smile would've been the widest and the most threatening of all.

I've heard from a news show that in order to avoid being attacked by a dog, you should look away and pretend that nothing's even happening. Or in my case, going to happen. So I just stared at the TV—which is pure blue and had no activity whatsoever going on—acting like I'm interested. Jethro took ample steps forward.

That news show's name is mud.

I wanted to yell so bad at that moment, but I didn't want to freak the dog out. He might try and dig himself out of that room through the door.

So I just sighed inwardly, waiting for the slobbery teeth to come and pinch me.

There was a loud static noise that issued from the speakers as a new "scene" displayed on the TV, and it made Jethro jump. It made him run off to another room, which was enough to make me happy. At first, I kept watching out for him, and then I found myself a minute or two later watching the tape. All I saw were hands and the waist down parts. I saw that the people in the video were at their kitchen, too.

"We have to return this tomorrow, Liz." McGee's dad. "I think Dylan needs it for an event."

"Okay," McGee's mom answered. I heard the door open. "Oh. Hi! I didn't know you were coming, dad!"

"Hey, Tim," McGee's dad greeted.

TIM?!

"James, Liz, I need to talk to both of you," an elder man spoke.

"Is there…Is there anything wrong?"

"That son of yours—"

"That son—Tim?"

"Yeah," the elder man fumed. "That—" (He used an unkind word, so I'll leave it blank) "that you call son went over to Philip's house and threaten John!"

"You don't have to call Tim that," McGee's dad—James, I think his name was—said, his tone gaining height.

"James, please," McGee's mom beseeched.

"What's wrong with it? Isn't it true?" the elder man said, almost near to yelling. "That kid is a (blank)! He has the nerves to come over to his cousin's house and beat the life out of him, then act like he deserves a medal for doing it!"

"Maybe John did something. He's not going to act like that for no reason, dad—"

"You're defending him? You're defending that self-righteous, little—"

"Don't you dare, Timothy!" McGee's dad's voice boomed. "Don't you dare."

"What, James, you can't stand it when that boy is being called by what he is? And what do you mean 'don't you dare'? You used my name for that boy! Don't you think it's more offensive for me to accept that (blank) into my family? His mother—his real mother—is a prostitute and is in jail. He's not even my daughter's kid! So he does not have any right to do that to John! He should sit in one corner, shut up, and rot for the rest of his life!"

There was a quick movement from McGee's father then a shrill cry then a loud _thud_. My jaws, if they were detachable, would have dropped on the floor, roll out of the apartment, go over America, through the seven seas, through all the continents, and would have kept on going until I could believe that I have just seen McGee's father hit his grandfather in the face.

"Dad, James, please," McGee's mother cried.

"Elizabeth," grandpa _Jerk _said, as if asking her to come to his aid.

"He's my son now, Dad." She swallowed. "You didn't have any right to say all of those about my son. So if you don't want to apologize, you can leave my house."

"Eliz—"

"Now," she said steely.

There was silence first. Then: "Someday he'll grow up. He will look for anyone who will love him—" he scoffed, "but he won't see any. He will die alone. He will shut up and rot, just like I told you. Mark my words." There was a shuffle, and then heavy steps walked out, and then slammed the door.

I can't tell you how shocked I was when the screen turned blue again. Few weeks after I watched that video, I still had no idea if McGee knew about that part of the clip. I found out one night, when mommy told me things about her day, that McGee rushed out of his apartment that time because his grandpa Tim was dying and was looking for him. Mommy said that he was really, really upset because when he got to Virginia, his grandpa had already passed away.

He told her that he was his favorite grandpa, and he loved him a whole lot.

And I liked McGee then. I don't think it's going to last just this once, but for the rest of my plush life.

**Signed,**

_**Bert the Hippo**_

_**6:58 PM**_

_**(Still in need of a calendar) **_

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**_Reviews are always loved._**


	4. If My Left Brain

**_Author's Note:_****_ Sorry it took me so long to update! I was finishing another story. . . Anyways, thanks to the following people for their wonderful comments! Lovely, lovely readers!_**

**__****pinkdrama•Famlz•kanskyny•LIGHTNSHADOWS**

**_Enjoy this next entry! =D_**

**____****Disclaimer:**_** NCIS and its characters belong to its proper owners. Other recognizable materials/products do not belong to me either.**_

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**-:: Entry Three ::-**

'**If My Left Brain'**

Shake it off, shake it off, shake it off. I know that my last entry was not the _smoothest _entry in this diary (hint, hint—a clue, a clue!), but I did tell you that I will write down the things I've seen in a no-holds-barred format.

Although, yeah. It went a little bit overboard that. It was **SO** horrendous, wasn't it? The confrontation was horrible! It was very, very scary and out of control! That hitting and biting and slobbering and farting?

I mean, Jethro and I were going **ham*** at it!

I'm just glad I'm out of that nightmare. Whew! I still dream of his teeth sinking through my cloth-of-a-skin and then the way he waggles me. That dog was **merciless**.

Anyways, I thought it would be nice to share some things about me. Kind of like **FAQ**, but not entirely that. We're doing…

**MLTBAQ!**

**Question 1: Bert, what the heck does MLTBAQ mean?**

Good question! **MLTBAQ** stands for **M**ost-**L**ikely-**T**o-**B**e-**A**sked **Q**uestions. You know. Questions that I usually hear or things that I thought would be nice to share.

**Question 2: I'm a bit confused. Are you a guy or a girl? **

My name is a bit misleading (don't blame my **Mommy **for it; see **Introduction to the Hippo Diary**, page 1). I am a girl. A very, very grayish and smiley and Goth and teenage girl! =D

**Question 3: If you could change your name, would you?**

Probably. Probably not.

**Question 4: Well, let's just say you would. What name would you choose?**

I'm warming up to being Bertha the Hippo.

**Question 5: Any favorite movies?**

_Dirty Dancing, _I think. The guy and the girl reminds me of two particular people *grins* You'll know who they are in later entries. I also like _Hurt Locker, Blind Side, _and _Up. _I blame **Daddy **for making me a movie addict!

**Question 6: So, okay. Team Edward or Team Jacob?**

Hmm. Very important question, it sounds to me. (Well, at least it did when I heard this agent ask one of her colleague that during one of my visit-the-office days.)

I'm going for **Team Gibbs**. Yeah. I'm solid on that. Team Sir Gibbs.

**Question 7: Had there been any other stuff toy that annoyed you so much? **

Back when I was still at the store, there was this one dude that bothered me. Every time an adult or even a child hugs him, he says something really disturbing. And he have told me that one time (maybe it was one of his clones; I'm not really sure about it). He says that there's "A party in his tummy". I don't know about you, but I just smiled, nodded my head, and backed away slowly. Maybe not exactly _that _way, but you get my drift.

Although it could be those small gummy bears inside his stomach. I'm still debating whether he's a stuff toy or a piñata. *shrugs*

But he's not the one who gets into my nerves. It's the Care Bears. Some of them I get along with, but most of them I don't! Don't get fooled by their name. What's-his-face bear isn't as nice as you think. They smile and pretend like they want to hug you. I almost fell for it. I was having a bad day once and asked them for a hug.

Did I get one? No…

Then when Daddy came by, that day he bought me, one of them said something like, "It's me, Whatever Bear. What's your name?" Daddy seriously considered picking her up! I was a bit relieved because it's one less Annoying Bear.

But I was happier when he put her back then picked me up instead.

The look on her face. It was golden.

Just so you know, I'm grinning right now. . .

**Question 8: Any favorite singers or bands?**

Care Bears in Fire . . .

**Question 9: Do you have, like, any favorite poems? **

Well, I think I do. Maybe it qualifies. So far, it's been my favorite!

I heard this once when **Jimmy**, Mommy's co-worker and **Doctor Ducky's **assistant, grabbed me by mistake. Mommy and I decided to make a short trip to the Autopsy Room that day. Jimmy was rushing to get out, saying that he had a date with **Brina**, who, if I guess right, is his girlfriend.

Yeah. I remember Mommy saying that when the team met her, they were so shocked to see a tan, blonde, ooh-la-lady standing next to Jimmy as he introduced his girlfriend.

Anyways, he was in such a rush that instead of grabbing the stuffed toy he bought for his girl, he grabbed me. He stashed me inside this big bag.

Then, he ran out like crazy.

I felt very, very abducted and ripped off of my rights.

He only realized his error when he opened the paper sack and saw me.

Surprise!

"Oh, no," Jimmy said, distressed. He reached into the bag for me.

"What's wrong?" I heard a woman ask. Must be Brina.

Jimmy removed me out of the bag, and then he faced me towards her. Aww! She _is _pretty! Her eyes smiled with the luminescent little lamps at the side of their table. She held a very stunning smile. She had a warm vibe around her. She was amiable.

"Is that for me?" she asked, awestruck.

"No, princess. I'm sorry," Jimmy said, turning me around to him. He was very upset, I could tell.

He ran out of time to prepare for his date, too. His hair on the right side was brushed upwards, most likely caused by his hastily removal of the surgery gown. His tie was crooked. The back of his collar was bent up.

He placed me with uncertainty in the middle of the table, where I could see both of them.

I sighed inwardly.

"It's Abby's stuff toy," Jimmy clarified. "You remember her, don't you?"

She nodded.

"I must have grabbed _him_ by mistake." (Note: See **Question 2 **at the upper page)

"That's okay," Brina smiled. "Don't let it bother you much, sweetie. We still have a night ahead of us."

"Of course. Our date," Jimmy said.

You guessed what happened next. They told each other stories, they ordered food, I sat there looking at their dinner drooling inside. That was a joy.

"Yeah, before I forgot," Jimmy mumbled, still chewing his Chicken a la Kiev. He leaned on the opposite side while he drew out a piece of paper from his back pocket. "Here it is."

"To-Do List?" Brina joked.

Jimmy chuckled. After opening the paper, I noticed that his face was turning into a subtle hue of pink. "No. It's a," he stalled, "it's a project in my class that I wanted you to hear."

"It's not about cadavers, is it?" Brina mildly frowned at the paper. "I was kind of hoping that we could finish our dinners first before we go through it."

"Not about bodies, princess," Jimmy looked at her, a shy grin on his lips. "Our instructor thought that it would be nice if we wrote something for the chapter we're studying now, which is the nervous system. I really couldn't come up with anything for a report, more so with a story. But I thought of a poem."

"That's nice," she smiled again. "What's the title?"

Jimmy hesitated. He mumbled something.

"I'm sorry?"

"_If My Left Brain_," he muttered, but clearly that time.

"Sounds interesting. Let's hear it."

Jimmy took a deep breath. He glanced at me, and then at Brina. She gazed at him encouragingly. He opened his mouth to speak.

"_Every fold, every crease;_

_Halt. These contain my memories._

_Every branch of every tree;_

_Go. Air in, you shall breathe._

_If my right brain ceases function;_

_I'll be out of intuition._

_If my left brain fails to work;_

_Facts, it will distort._

_But even if these are all gone;_

_I can hold until it's done._

_In a little corner— _

_I can't lose._

_It's a heart beat that I use._

_I will save your smile, princess_

_Even if My Right Brain_

_Or My Left Brain's work recess."_

Man. I was so impressed! It was very sweet, and I knew immediately it was for Brina. It sounded like it.

I looked at the lady facing Jimmy, and I think I saw her mouth slightly ajar—signifying her amazement. Jimmy bashfully scratched his head. "I got a D on that one," he admitted. "My professor said it doesn't contain enough substance." He folded the paper neatly then slipped it back inside his pocket. "I got a bit angry 'cause. . ." he stared at her eyes. He shrugged. " 'Cause I wrote it while I thought about you."

Brina nodded. She crossed her arms. "If I was the one checking that paper, I would give it a different grade," she said.

"Yeah? What would it be?"

Brina smiled. She stood up from her seat. "Here," she pulled Jimmy's necktie, forcing him to stand up and move towards her, too. "I'll show you."

Then, they kissed.

It was just so cute! Or probably not. If Mommy did that to Daddy, I would have died right then and there, with Exposure to Adorableness as the cause. But maybe I'll think (and hope) about it later.

It was Jimmy and Brina's night. It was their poetry, their story. It was the truth about Jimmy's mind, and it was the essence of Brina's heart.

So, that's it for now for **MLTBAQ**!

_**Signed,**_

_**Bert the Hippo**_

_**11:38 PM**_

_**Date? I wish…**_

_**P.S: **__***Ham**__** - definition (1): slang; a derivative of the word **__mayhem_

_- __**definition (2): meat cut from the thigh of the hind leg of a hog after curing by salting or smoking.**_

_**P.P.S: **_For further **MLTBAQ** questions, well…I don't really know… :-/

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**Just to make clear, I do not have anything against the brands hinted/mentioned above. It's just Bert! :)**

**Well, please review! Bert will love them! **


	5. PS I Miss You

_**Author's Note: Thanks for the following people who left beautiful comments for last chapter! =D**_

_**SheWillBeLoved013•abbyfan95•pinkdrama**_

_**Especial thanks to pinkdrama! I've been thinking of fanart makers who'd be brave enough to create a Team Gibbs banner or avvie! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: NCIS (and its characters), Brawny, ESPN, and Titanic belong to their proper owners. No suing. Bert will be sad. **_

* * *

**-:: Entry Four ::-**

'**P.S: I Miss You'**

One common stereotype that I've heard about guys is that they do not have any emotions. As long as **pizza**, **beer**, and **ESPN** are still around, they're happy.

I find that very unfair.

Because I love pizza. I mean, I can't eat it, but I love it!

It's a hearsay: men are interested of nothing but what's superficial. They don't really deal with tears and love and emotion and yada yada yada. Men are supposed to be **rocks**. They're supposed to be **strong**. They're supposed to be someone **who you can lean on**. They're supposed to be someone who **never lets you down**.

Men are like **Brawny**, you know?

These stereotype of emotionally-devoid male species didn't stand true, though, when I spent a night over **Sir Gibbs' **house. **Mommy** was busy yet again that night, and she asked **Daddy **to take care of me. I stuck with him almost all day. He said he needed to make sure that I was in perfect condition when he hands me back to Mommy. He also said he didn't want to feel the **"wrath of the Goth"**, whatever that means.

Then, when he remembered a folder that he needed to give to Sir Gibbs, we rushed to his house. It was frantic, but he got the job done. We ran through the rain (he kept me dry and warm inside his jacket; I love my Daddy!), and we went to Sir Gibbs' domain, which is his basement.

Daddy placed me and the folder down at one table. Sir Gibbs gave him a new set of order. Daddy picked up a new stack of paper, held together by one giant paper clip, then he was off. Without me.

Sir Gibbs also left after a while. I don't think he even knew I was there. He turned off the lights before going upstairs.

So almost all night I was down there at the dark basement, my backside **freezing off **and staring at nothing but the "dismembered" **ship** some distance away from me.

Huh. All of a sudden I thought of calling some dude named **Jack**.

It became a bit too cruel for me. Imagine being cold, but not being able to shiver. That's quite a torture. I was ebbing in and out consciousness.

I hope Daddy enjoys the wrath of the Goth.

At around 3 o'clock, I began seeing a light.

Nope. Not that kind of light.

I opened my eyes. I saw Sir Gibbs in his dark blue NCIS t-shirt, staring at me. Come to think of it, he might be frowning. I was not fully aware by then, still a bit disoriented.

"How did you get here, Bert?" Sir Gibbs asked, finally deciding to commence on his intended work. He walked over to the far side of the table, then picked up a sandpaper. "Your babysitter forget ya?"

I was trying hard not to cry. I've never been left alone for that long, not even since when I was still back at the store. I could feel a lump forming in my neck (I don't have a throat… ). All I could think about was that Daddy forgot me.

Yes, I'm already fourteen, I shouldn't sob, but I'm not dead.

Soon, the basement filled up with the scent of wood and its shavings. I could hear the rough encounter between the lumber and the sandpaper. "That's quite alright," Sir Gibbs said. "Abby should be off by this time. She'll get DiNozzo grilled when she finds out he misplaced you."

He turned around, glanced at me, then smiled as he pressed a button on his radio. He went back to what he was doing, probably expecting some song to play.

But someone else spoke in the system. It was unexpected, I knew, because there was a slight surprise in his eyes after the first words came out.

_"Hi, Daddy," _I heard a little girl say happily. _"It's—Mom, what's the date again? Oh, right. It's Friday today. I just got out of school. Guess what? I got two stars from Miss Platt's class! She said I was very good. I played the piano well. I only need three more stars to get a medal, Daddy!"_

Sir Gibbs resumed his work, listening, I'm sure, but pretending as if he was not. _"Why don't you tell him about your art class, sweetheart?" _an older woman asked. It must be **Madame Shannon**. The little girl must be **Miss Kelly**.

_"Oh, yeah," _Miss Kelly said. _"Today we're supposed to paint a picture of something we love. And, um, I made a painting of you and Mommy."_

I saw Sir Gibbs smile.

_" It's in the yellow envelope, sweetie," _said Madame Kelly. _"Our letters are in there, too. The house is such a mess right now. Spring cleaning. I just want to—" _she sighed contentedly, _"I just want everything tidy and orderly so that you'll come back to a nice home."_

_"I clean the windows, Daddy," _Miss Kelly proudly said.

Madame Shannon chuckled. _"Yes, she does," _she said. _"We're trying to get a lot of things done. We're just excited to see you. Kelly said she wanted to go to that new theme park. What was it called again, honey?"_

_"Six Flags."_

_"Yes. Six Flags. She said she wanted to ride a roller coaster with you." _Madame Shannon laughed quietly, maybe shaking her head at the thought of her daughter being on such a ride. _"Well, I'll see you in three weeks, sweetheart. Take care, okay? We love you a lot." _She paused._ "I love you. I will always love you. A lot."_

By that time, I noticed that Sir Gibbs have come to a complete stop. He was gazing at an empty space, for a while looking lost and uncertain.

_"Goodbye, Jethro. Goodnight." _

Sir Gibbs heaved a breath as silence dominated. He dropped the sandpaper, and then went towards the radio. When he placed a finger on the stop button, Miss Kelly came on one last time. _"P.S," _she whispered. _"I miss you, Daddy." _Then, the play button popped back up by itself.

"I miss you a lot, too, princess," he said quietly, looking at the idle radio. "You just don't know how much I miss you."

It was heart-wrenching, seeing Sir Gibbs standing there. It was as if he was hoping that his family didn't just exist as voices and memories printed within rolls of tapes; he was wishing that they were alive and were there, at his home, with him. Even if he went back to the boat and continued his work, I could feel those thoughts lingering around him.

At the same time, it was an eye opener. Or button-slash-eye opener, if you will. Sir Gibbs is one of the toughest guys I know, but he's not as cold as a stone. He loves, he misses, and he feels emotions just like any of us.

So that stereotype about men? That's bogus.

Later on that day, Sir Gibbs dropped me off at my home. Apparently, when we came, Daddy have started to get a telling-off from Mommy. He was slightly cowering and wincing. I guess he just received that infamous I'm-the-only-person-who-can-take-you-off-with-no-forensic-evidence speech from Mommy.

Talking about wrath.

_**Signed,**_

_**Bert the Hippo**_

_**8:07 PM**_

_**(Auditions open for calendars)**_

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**Reviews are very much appreciated! **


	6. Speaking of the Dead

**_Author's Note:_****_ Thank you to pinkdrama for posting a review! _**

**____****Disclaimer:**_** NCIS and its characters, as well as other recognizable products do not belong to me. They belong to their rightful owners.**_

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**-:: Entry Five ::-**

**Speaking of the Dead**

Have you ever felt like you're alone? Like if you pick up the phone and call someone, they're not going to answer? If you write to that someone, you'll never get a reply? Or, if you talk to them, you'll never get words back?

I think that's what **Doctor Ducky **felt after his mommy passed away. **Mommy **have told me her observations of Doctor Ducky, how he acted different, and it made her upset. Of course, it did the same for me. He had been like a grandfather to me. I don't want him to be sad. **Daddy **have mentioned before that he lived in a manor. I could just imagine how quiet it is at his home.

So one day, **Daddy and Mommy** decided to **sleep over **Doctor Ducky's house. Well, actually, the supposed-to-be consensus went this way:

"Tony, we have to go. Ducky doesn't have anyone with him, and I know he's down, and—dang it, we have to be there for him!"

"What if he doesn't want us there?"

"What if he does, but he just doesn't want to say it?"

"What if we'll just embarrass him by going there?"

Mommy sighed. "If you don't want to, that's fine. I thought of all people that you'd be the one who would say yes." Then, she turned around and began zipping close her sleeping bag.

"Okay, Abby. I'm sorry. I'm coming."

Mommy smiled but didn't turn around. "Really? Are you saying that because you feel guilty?"

"Yes—" Mommy stopped. "I mean, no," Daddy amended. "I mean—You were right. The Duckster could use company right now."

Mommy nodded. "I appreciate it," she said. "Now all you need is your stuff. We're ready to go."

After another hour or so, and that's just preparing for Mommy's things, including **Mortimer** (the cute little doggy who is very **unlike** **Jethro**) and I, we stopped by Daddy's home. After that, we are a go!

It was so nice. The drive to Doctor Ducky's home was smooth, although the weather was threatening. It was lovely, nonetheless. The air was rich with cool, titillating sensation (hmm… I think I've seen too many **gum commercials**…). The clouds were swollen with what seems to be rain and thunder (to which Daddy said, "I do hope we get to Ducky's before it starts pouring" ). Mortimer was playing with me, while Daddy drove and Mommy sat quietly in the passenger's seat.

The next thing I knew was that Mommy was carrying me and her sleeping bag, while Daddy was carrying the wriggling Mortimer and their bags. While we waited outside Ducky's door after ringing the bell, I felt like crying. We're like on a **family vacation**!

We heard a _clank_ then, the great oak door opened. Ducky peeked out, an oil-smeared apron on and a dish cloth on his hand. He creased his eyebrows a bit when he saw us. "Abigail, Anthony, what are you two doing here?" he asked.

"We're here for the sleep over, Ducky," Daddy said.

A thunder boomed at the sky by then.

"Sleep over?" Doctor Ducky echoed. He unconsciously stepped aside, leaving the door open for us to come in. "Forgive me, my dears, but I do not remember having sent any notice about that."

Mommy, followed by Daddy, walked inside. She grinned at him. "Oh, I'm really sorry, Ducky. We kind of just—" she glanced at Daddy, "invited ourselves to an overnight stay at your house."

Ducky closed the door. Another thunder boomed.

"Horrible weather," Daddy mumbled.

"You don't mind the company, do you?" Mommy asked.

For a moment, Ducky seemed to be distant, as if he wasn't even paying attention. Then, for some reason, he snapped back to reality. "What? Oh, yes," Doctor Ducky said. "It was just so sudden, but of course I do not mind, sweetheart." Then, he turned around and went back to the kitchen. "My house is in such a mess, I will tell you," he laughed.

Mommy gave Daddy an anxious look. "Did you see that?" she asked under her breath.

Daddy nodded worriedly. "Yeah," he answered.

"Dinner's almost done," Doctor Ducky bellowed, maybe as he checked on what he was baking. "I supposed this could feed and satisfy three people."

Daddy and Mommy placed the bags down, then Mortimer on the floor. I stayed with Mommy.

Ha! I was still their favorite!

"C'mon," Daddy told Mommy. We then proceeded to the kitchen. "Ducky, we'll help you set up the table."

And the night went on just as expected. They had dinner—steak, by the way, to which Mortimer and I whined for. He got it. I didn't. *sigh*

Daddy and Mommy set up their sleeping bags at the basement. Daddy brought a lot of movies with him. All of us watched _Psycho_. Doctor Ducky sat on the recliner, watching quietly. I sat with him. Mortimer was sleeping on his little bed. Daddy and Mommy were on the floor. Mommy was holding on to Daddy's arms, which made me happy.

After that, Doctor Ducky made some tea. We moved on to the fireplace, where everything went mellow. And eerily silent. Doctor Ducky sat on one of the grand chairs, while Daddy and Mommy sat beside each other on the floor again.

"She always enjoyed sitting here, near at the fireplace," Doctor Ducky began. "She said that the little warmth and the slight coldness were a good combination for a sleeping mood."

"She was right," Daddy said, carefully sipping his drink. "It's relaxing."

Ducky chuckled. "She also said that it was incredible to watch the flames dance," he added. "It wasn't like her visit on NCIS, where she kept trying to peek at that iris scanner at MTAC."

Mommy giggled. "It was fun to have her there," she said. "We agreed that we both liked the mass spec."

"She loved her day at NCIS. She was a bit difficult to handle, but I was glad she was there," Doctor Ducky said. His smile wore down gradually, and Daddy and Mommy caught it. "I wish I had spent more time with her."

Daddy and Mommy, I could tell, were groping for words by then. But it seemed impossible, if not completely futile. I found myself looking for words, too; there wasn't any.

Doctor Ducky breathed out, and I was certain that it sounded like a shudder. "I do apologize," he smiled, but it was heavily tinted with grief. "I really should stop talking about my mother. It is just not a good topic to tackle."

"You shouldn't, Ducky," Daddy said. "Stop talking about your mom, I mean. When my mom went away, I always thought about her. I talked about her. I didn't know why, but I guess that's just one of the ways I can keep her with me. You know, that's one of the things I can do to keep her alive." Daddy then sipped some tea, as if what he said was nothing to him. But it was something. His words were dripping with his feelings about the passing away of his mom, too.

"There's some other things we don't know about your mom," Mommy built on to what Daddy started. "If you'd like to, you can tell us anything you want. Tony and I want to remember her, too."

Doctor Ducky thought about what they said. It took him a while, just pondering about the suggestion, and then he straightened up. He smiled. "Thank you," he said. "Anthony, Abigail. For coming."

"Our pleasure, Duck," Daddy smiled.

Doctor Ducky sighed. "So where do we want to start?"

"What about where Mrs. Mallard grew up?" Mommy suggested.

"Well, Mother grew up in…"

We listened as Doctor Ducky told us about his mom. As he got into his stories, he became a bit happy. I could see it in his eyes. There was one moment where Daddy and Mommy looked at each other. They exchanged smiles. Mommy then leaned her head on Daddy's shoulders.

It was amazing what speaking about people who have gone can do. For other people, it was something that should not be done at all since it brings nothing but agony. For others still, it could be something hinted though not fulfilled. For Ducky, Daddy, Mommy and I, it was enlightening.

I learned that night that even if it's so much a pain to lose someone, one thing that might help us heal is if we remember them. As Daddy have said, it's one thing we can do to keep them alive.

_**Signed,**_

_**Bert the Hippo**_

_**11:13 AM**_

_**Date: (Moving on to Contestant Number 2!) **_

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**__****I'll post two chapters a day! Ooh, and don't forget to leave a review! :D**


	7. HeShe Haven't Met You Yet

**_Disclaimer:_****_ NCIS and its characters, as well as other recognizable products do not belong to me. This chapter is inspired by Michael Bublé's "Haven't Met You Yet". That's not mine either. :P_**

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**-:: Entry Six ::-**

**(He/She) Haven't Met You Yet**

I know that people try things that are available to find **love**, and I can understand, but I think that's a bit tricky. Love have always had **different definitions**. Dictionaries say that it's the _"feeling of tender affection to something/someone"_, or, you know, something that's much more _intimate_ than that. Some people say that it's something that _is blind. _It's an emotion that defies all human weaknesses.

With all of those many meanings, surely everyone have their own expectations.

I guess that's one thing that **McGee** did not pay much attention to. Especially when it came to women. I mean, even if I completely loathed him during the years that he and Mommy dated, I still think he's a **nice guy**. He's a **smarty**. He doesn't look **hideous**. When he loves, he really loves. But at times he ends up with the most **wicked women **on earth!

One of them conned him and got his credit card (and, mind you, laughed at him), and one of them was an Assassin.

Some of them were really nice girls, but they end up slipping away from him. Daddy had mentioned a lady named Erin Kendall once, years ago. And that assassin, too.

Well, not really, since she _did_ try to kill him.

Anyways, I feel bad for him.

And I'd have to admit, I feel the same for **Ziva**. Roy, a very nice guy who came into her life just a little bit too late, and **Michael**, who was a rogue Mossad operative (not really sure), fell out of her life, too.

She have had a hard time looking for her perfect match, but the death of the last dude—the Rivkin guy—drove her to the edge, I think.

Some days after that, **Sir Gibbs**, **Daddy**, and **Ziva** flew to **Israel**. There's this weird spark between their eyes every time they look at each other, Daddy and Ziva. Believe me, it wasn't the good one. Thankfully not the good one.

Then, the next I heard, Ziva have stayed in Israel.

Everyone was worried about her. **Mommy** didn't know what exactly happened, but she was hoping that her friend would return soon. Daddy was just quiet about it, but he hated whatever took place. Not quite sure with Sir Gibbs; he might have been **worried and nervous as coffee**. McGee talked everyone to death about Ziva.

After snooping around, the news came that the ship that bore Ziva and several other operatives had sunk. No survivors.

It was awful. Mommy had begun crying again. Daddy zoned out almost every other second. Sir Gibbs mentioned something about a panda in a submarine one time, but I might have had the **Daddy Syndrome **then.

McGee insisted that Ziva was not dead. He knows it. He just _knows _it.

After a tactful rescue in Somalia, it turned out he was right.

Ziva came home with Sir Gibbs, Daddy, and McGee. Shook up. Tattered clothes on her. I doubt that that's even hers—Mommy and I suspected that it belonged to those evil men. During her first night back, Mommy volunteered to look for a place where she could stay. Ziva didn't want to, more than likely because she was embarrassed over something, but Mommy insisted.

She brought out some old shirts of hers, lending it to Ziva. They also made a quick stop, before dropping Ziva off to the nice hotel, to a store to buy her other necessities.

After that, when we arrived at the room, Mommy left me with Ziva, giving me the task of **staying** with her. She said I have to keep her **company**. She said I was supposed to **protect** her no matter what. She also said I should make her **laugh and happy**.

So I geared my whoopee cushion, and got ready for Ziva's squeeze to come. When she wanted to let me rip it, I will rip it!

But at nights, when I was with her, Ziva didn't hug me. After turning the lights off and laying down on her bed, she would grasp my paws and stare at the ceiling. Her hands shook, too. She cried. Sometimes, she would wait until neither the moon nor the early sun occupied the sky before going to sleep. Sometimes she would not sleep at all.

It worried me a lot.

On rare occasions, Sir Gibbs would drop by and ask how she was, although there was always this constricting tension every time he spoke to her. Daddy, always along with Mommy, would come and say hi, but not prolonged. McGee? He did almost the same things, too.

Only he was a bit different.

He would come and talk to Ziva for a longer time. He would always ask if she'd eaten. Every visit, he would leave her chocolates.

Now you know my stand on that, but this time he had it justified.

McGee said that Ziva should have a chocolate every time she's sad. It would cheer her up. He also said he knew that she might not eat them, so as an **incentive**—get this—he brought **chocolate truffles **instead.

Hmm.

Anyways, Ziva would smile, saying that she would. But when the clock struck nighttime, those sweets would lay above her pillow that was regularly watered by her tears. She would have a **bottle of wine **instead, which came from the gift baskets from other NCIS employees as a welcome present for her, in her arms.

One night, when McGee visited (Mommy was still at work then), he found Ziva sitting on the floor, leaning on the couch, a half-drained bottle of wine in her hand. It took him a split second to recognize what the matter was. Then, he acted upon it by sinking to his knees beside her before grabbing the bottle away. "Ziva, what are you doing?" he said. "You left the door open, and you're sitting here drunk?"

Ziva nodded solemnly. "Yes," she answered. She turned to him with an innocent, anxious look. "Are you going to tell Abby?"

"What do you think?"

Ziva looked down on the floor, a faint smile on her lips. McGee sighed, got up, closed the door, then sat back down with her. "You okay?" were the only words he managed to ask.

"Do I look okay?" she smiled at him.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Why haven't you?"

"I do not know."

"Do you want me to get you something?"

"No."

"Do you need help with anything?"

"McGee, will you stop?" Ziva said, her voice louder, her tone higher. "You are treating me as if I am a child!"

A flash in McGee's eyes indicated that he was taken aback. "I'm not treating you like a child, Ziva," he answered calmly. "I'm just trying to make sure you're doing good—"

"Well, I am not. Does that answer all of your questions?" Ziva fired back. "Here," she said, then hurried off to her room. She came out later with an armful of chocolate truffles. Then, she dumped them on the floor. McGee watched them collide with the carpet, one by one. "They would not make me feel better, so do not bring me any more." Tears glistened in her eyes as she heaved each breath. "You are just like my father."

At that moment, McGee looked up, offended.

"He gave me that stupid necklace when my mother died. He said that as long as it is with me, I will be strong. But I knew he didn't mean it. He did not mean any of the words he said. I know he only gave me that so I will not pity myself. That I have to shoulder what he cannot shoulder and what he will not shoulder."

"Ziva," McGee muttered, silently indignant.

"He never cared. He just wants to escape his responsibilities and be someone that everyone's afraid of. Do you know what he did after Gibbs and Tony left me? He sent me out on a mission. And he bought me a new knife to protect myself during that journey. He said I was tough, and I do not need all of you anyways. I had him, and that was good. He said he would never leave me."

"Ziva."

"But he lied," Ziva spoke everything bitterly, chewing on them as they dart out of her mouth and swallowing its poison wholeheartedly. "The first thing that Saleem took was that necklace. That necklace. Do you think when they did those things to me, when they beat me, that it made me strong? That knife. They even used that to threaten to kill me. Do you think it protected me?"

"Ziva," McGee said, his voice louder and authoritative.

Ziva only stared at his eyes, seething. "So I do not need any of those things you are giving me. Because they just remind me that I have messed everything up and nobody gives a thing about it. And you, too." She stepped closer to him. "You never cared."

I was really tempted to bite my nails by then. Well, paws, technically. I haven't seen McGee and Ziva in such a spat before. Ziva was being too in-McGee's-face, and McGee only stood there glaring back at her.

The intensity in the room gave me the bajeebees.

Then, after a flicker of a moment, McGee's expression changed to that mixture of sadness and regret. Next, he took a risk: he reached out for Ziva's right hand. He lightly clasped her fingers, and then smiled at her.

Ziva only frowned at their hands. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making sure that I would have lesser chance of being hit flat in the face," McGee said. Ziva's eyebrows creased more. "Look. I only brought you those chocolates because I've heard that they release chemicals in your brain that would make you at least a bit happy. I'm sorry I didn't know you don't want 'em. I'm sorry I didn't know it was that bad. I'm sorry I irritated you with all these questions. I'm sorry about what happened between you and your father. But above all, I'm sorry that you brought Somalia and Israel back with you. You remember your father and Saleem, and whatever the deal was with you and Gibbs and Tony almost every time, but you forget about yourself.

"Ziva, nothing else and no one else can define you except you. If you focus on others, then you'll lose to all those people you hate. The Ziva I know don't want that. Right? Because you're much better," McGee smiled at her. She didn't say anything. Instead, she just stared. "Okay, then. I guess I'm going now," he said after an awkward silence threatened to linger. He let go of her hand. He turned around, and then opened the door to leave.

"Tim?"

He turned around. "Yeah? You need—"

His eyes widened as Ziva's lips touched his, shutting his Hallmark-Moment-Making mouth. The **touch-kiss** only lasted quickly, but it seemed like it was on slow motion, as if it was something that had been waiting to take place for a long time.

"Thank you," Ziva said after she broke off. "Thank you for being different." She grinned weakly when she saw him blushing. "I'm sorry about the…"

"Oh, um," McGee stammered, "it's okay. You're good." His eyes widened after realizing the misinterpretation his last words might bring . "No, I meant you're fine—you're alright—I mean don't worry about it."

Ziva chuckled. "You do not have to amend for it, Tim. It was just something that I believe I've owed you a long time ago." McGee nodded, still flustered. "Hey. You know I could use some help with those truffles. Can't eat them by myself."

McGee came, sat down on the couch, and ate the truffles with her . They began talking about other stuff (once McGee was out of his bubble), and they had a good time. It made me happy watching them, and I hoped Mommy and Daddy would be the same later on.

Now I said on the intro that I will tell you some secrets about Daddy and Mommy's team. Here's one: that kiss wasn't the only kiss McGee and Ziva shared. That night was not the only night they spent with each other. And, to come straight out with it, they didn't remain just friends after that night. It became something more.

I'm not sure what they thought love was, but I think they were on the same page about it. I would like to think that Ziva have wanted it for a long time, and McGee had always been more than willing to share that with her. They looked for it. They lost it. Then, they lost it again.

And this time they found it.

Now, I have the chance to tell you another secret. I'd been wanting to tell this to everyone, but I had to save the best for last!

After all, it is about my Daddy and Mommy… ;)

_**Signed,**_

_**Bert the Hippo**_

_**3:02 PM**_

_**A nice reader have made a calendar in the**_

**dirt for me… Oh, look at that. It's—**

**P.S: Dang you, McGee! You infected me with your Hallmark Disease!**

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_**Two chapters to go! Please review! :)**_


	8. It's A DaddyMommy Thing

**_Author's Note:_****_ Thanks again to pinkdrama! And I do agree. They should have a Bert out in stores. :D I apologize for not updating. These are the last chapters, so please enjoy!_**

**_Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters belong to their proper owners._**

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**-:: Entry Seven ::-**

**It's A Daddy-Mommy Thing**

"What do you mean we're stuck here?"

As an **only child**, one thing I hate more than learning to and having to entertain myself is watching my **Daddy and Mommy **fight. Don't ask me how it started. I'm perplexed (that word really makes me think of Siamese twin houses and friggishly strong windows) enough as it is. I had been trying to figure out what and how it happened myself.

The only thing that I remembered was that days ago, **Mommy** packed her bags and prepped me for a trip. "We're going to **Columbus, Ohio**, Bert! We're going with Tony!" she told me with such excitement.

So, you know, I was ecstatic!

The next day, **Daddy** came, picked us up, then we went to the airport. When we got to the airplane, they slid their bags up, sat down, and waited. They were having fun.

Of course you know what Daddy also did as soon as he saw those **stewardesses**…

Everything was great, but then I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was a different story.

Daddy was still his usual goofy self, still checking out the ladies behind the carts (which was clearly a waste of time since Mommy was there), but Mommy was quiet, a bit distant. Okay, maybe A LOT distant, but I didn't see any reason why. I mean, Daddy have glanced at other women before, but she should know Daddy would always choose her. He would always come back to her. He would always like her the best.

Well, maybe she didn't know because evidently, I'm the only one who could point out that reason. But that's not important.

When we landed in Ohio, they're like **magnets**, North-to-North version. They barely talked, only occasionally came close within a feet of the other, and did not act like they have been "friends" for years.

Worst of all, they did not even realize that their _unica hija _was there, watching all of it. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't.

Daddy loaded the luggage to the trunk of his rented car, Mommy and I got in, and then he drove.

It was eerily quiet inside the car. It was the type of quiet that makes you want to **go postal** on whoever's near you. I was on the middle of Daddy and Mommy, so the stamps need to hold it.

When we pulled up to **Grampa Max's **(Daddy's insanely rich uncle's) house, we saw caterers and organizers and a repair man talking about a broken doorknob at the wine cellar and a gazebo and florists surrounding the area. I even thought that they were having a **fiesta** right then and there with all those people. I saw Mommy frown at everything, wondering what was happening.

"Cousin Lex's wedding," Daddy said, observing all of them after pulling the gearshift to Park. "Didn't I tell you?"

"I thought his name was Iggy?" Mommy asked him, but her tone revealed that she was still upset.

Daddy grinned. "Oh, he's very Lex," he said, then opened the door. "Trust me."

After we got off, we saw Daddy's bald groom-to-be cousin and his ladylove emerge from the tall bushes, the ones that framed the mansion's backyard. His eyes were the size of a **bouncy ball**! And when he smiled, it made every fiber of my being stand up and freeze. His lady was pretty, but she seemed spacey. She looked at random stuff but never at us.

"Le—Iggy!" Daddy said. "Long time no see."

"Anthony," Lex Luthor replied, all fancy and formal. "I would say the same. Ah, this is my fiancée, Ms. Kelly Clean. Say hi, Kelly."

"Hi, Kelly," she grinned at us, still distracted.

Daddy and Mommy exchanged glances.

"She's…She's just nervous so forgive her," Uncle Lex mended. "You know beautiful women. They worry about their wedding dress, their make-up, their hair…"

Too bad she didn't bother for a **brain**.

"Anyways, you understand what I am talking about, don't you, Anthony?" asked the prig. Then, he pulled on a regretful expression. "Oh, I forgot. I'm sorry. Your women doesn't stick. I mean, after the fling, they go, right? The price of being just a pretty boy."

Daddy remained steadfast in wearing his grin, but I knew he was frozen. Mommy, although, decided to clear her throat.

"And who do we have here?" Uncle Lex asked, all drooly at Mommy. "Caught another vixen, huh? What's your name, darling?"

"Abigail."

"I see. Hmm…I do hope you enjoy your time here, my dear. You and Tony are free to do whatever you want. You don't know, he might call it off as soon as you get back to DC."

"Iggy."

"We're grown-ups here, Anthony!" Uncle Lex pointed out, beaming. "She understands that. Don't you, baby?" he asked Mommy.

Mommy sucked in air, her eyes narrowed, and got ready to attack the creep. However, Daddy placed an arm in front of her just in time to stop her. "You have your future wife beside you, I'm in front of you, and you have the nerve to hit on my wife?" Daddy asked, glaring at Uncle Lex.

"What?" Uncle Lex, Mommy, and I (inwardly) said.

"Get your ears cleaned, Iggy," Daddy said, wrapping an arm around Mommy and pulling her close. "The last thing my," his lips stretched for a devious smile, "love bunny wants is to see Mr. Clean put a move on her."

"She's your wife?" Uncle Lex scoffed. He crossed his arms. "How come we never heard of your wedding?"

"Because we got married by a judge, at a municipal hall at DC," Daddy answered. "Isn't that right, Love Bunny?"

Mommy narrowed her eyes at him, but played along nonetheless. She smiled. "Yes, Honey Doodle," she said. Daddy's grin faltered for a bit when he heard her term of endearment to him.

"Yeah," Daddy said, looking back at Uncle Lex. "We only had three people know about the wedding. They didn't allow many people. Plus, you know," Daddy flashed his signature smile, "I don't think they allowed walking light bulbs in the building, so I didn't invite you. I knew it would hurt your feelings." He sighed. "Come on, Love Bunny. We have to check out our room."

Mommy, satisfied and abashed by the spiffy comeback courtesy of Daddy, nodded and walked away with him.

"Really, Tony? Love Bunny?" Mommy burst out after they reached the room.

"I couldn't think of anything!" Daddy reasoned. "And you called me Honey Doodle. What in the world is a Honey Doodle?"

"A figment of the imagination. Just like our wedding," she countered. "You told him we were married, Tony. You said that there were three people who knew it. And who are those supposed to be?"

Daddy shrugged. "Me, you, and Bert," he answered.

"Don't get Bert into this."

Oh, now I'm involved?

"You just flat-out said that we're married," Mommy said, her voice raising. "Tony, you li—"

"Don't be so loud, Abby," Daddy covered her mouth. "He'll hear me." Mommy bit Daddy's fingers. "Ow!"

"What do you want me to do?" she asked after Daddy pulled back his hand.

"Play along. Please. Just this weekend," Daddy said. He examined his fingers. "Sheesh, Abby. You trying to tear my flesh off?"

"You so owe me, Anthony DiNozzo," Mommy said, her arms crossed. They stared at each other for a moment, both agreeing on the charade they were going to pose.

And that was just how things went. Mommy was still upset with Daddy because of something I-don't-know-what, but she played the role of the **loving wife**. Daddy always **hugged her and kissed her on the forehead** in front of people, which made me happy, and he told them that he really **loved her**.

They were great at their game. If I didn't know Daddy and Mommy were NCIS employees though knowing that their marriage was fake, I would have thought they were really good actors. I wouldn't be even surprised if they got an award!

People bought into it. They would **congratulate** Daddy for finding a good woman, and Mommy would be complimented by how pretty she is. Daddy's relatives and friends would say that they would be happy together. They could just see it in their eyes.

At the day of the wedding, everyone was more interested on Daddy and Mommy. I heard the **caterers** once say that the couple was like **the prince and the princess in a fairytale** which fulfilled its happy ending. "You meant the Iggy guy and his future wife?" the other asked. "No," the girl caterer replied, sounding slightly offended and disgusted. "It's the cute cousin and his pretty wife. Tony and Abby, I think."

So I was squealing almost all day. It was like a dream come true…

I watched Uncle Lex during the wedding ceremony. It was obvious that he was upset, since he kept looking at the people who grinned at Daddy and Mommy. He was fuming silently. Incensed, even. A little more push on his buttons and the **gazebo** where he and his lady were married under would have burned down to ashes.

Later on, at the reception held at the mansion's humongo backyard, when everyone was expected to focus on the newlyweds, the Egghead hatched a plan.

"Anthony," he whispered to Daddy, who, along with Mommy and I, was surrounded by their star-eyed relatives. "Do you mind getting four bottles of white wine from Daddy's cellar? The ones that the caterers had isn't good. You can bring Abigail with you to help you."

Daddy, giddy with the attention he was getting because of his marriage and his wife, agreed. He excused us before descending to the poorly-lighted cellar.

"I feel bad for fooling your friends and your family," Mommy confessed, all of a sudden exhausted and upset again. She tucked me under her arm as she held the bottles.

"Don't worry about it, Abby," Daddy said, going up the small flight of stairs towards the door of the cellar. He placed one of the bottles down, then turned the doorknob. "I'm sure everything would be okay." Mommy rolled her eyes. Daddy frowned, shaking the door open. It remained shut. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?"

"The door's…"

"The door's what?"

"It's—" Daddy, in an attempt to force it open, tore away the knob. He faced Mommy with a mortified expression on his face. "I think we may be stuck here all night," he said.

"What do you mean we're stuck here?"

And this is where the **play button **is clicked. "I'm sorry," Daddy said. "I'll just use my phone…" He felt his pockets. "Dang. I left it in the room. Do you have yours?"

"It's on that tiny bag," Mommy breathed out, "on the table. Tony—"

"I know. I'm sorry. I should've known that Easter Island was up to no good," Daddy said, sitting against the door.

"You think? If looks could kill, we would have been dead days ago," Mommy said, stepping up beside him. "Maybe if we pounded on this door, someone would hear us?"

Loud, instrumental music rippled from outside. "No use," Daddy said. "If Lex don't want us out, he really don't want us out."

Mommy sighed, and then sat beside Daddy. "I should've known," Mommy scoffed. "I should've known that something like this would happen. I should've known this trip would really be a farce. After all, you did say those things on the plane, which I can see now was my signal. I had to trust you with this! Well, it's not like I don't trust you at all, because I do, but it's decreasing to nothing right now. You know why? 'Cause every time I agree to one of your hinky-dinks I always end up being frustrated and confused and stuck!"

A new song played up in the backyard, and the sweet sound flowed downstairs to us.

_Maybe I didn't love you_

_Quite as often as I could have_

_Maybe I didn't treat you_

_Quite as good as I should have…_

"Do you want to tell me what the problem is, Abby?" Daddy weakly smiled at her.

"You. You're the problem. You had me play as your wife and now I'm stuck here with you," she said. "And you had to say that thing on the plane. Why didn't you just leave me alone?"

"Look, I didn't know it would bother you, Abby. I thought it would be okay."

_If I made you feel sick and bad_

_Girl, I'm sorry I was blind_

_But you are always on my mind_

_You are always on my mind… _

"Okay? Okay that you liked Ziva?"

"You're right. Maybe that was not a great idea. But why are you so upset?"

"We shouldn't even talk about this anymore," Mommy said.

Daddy nodded. "Come on," he stood up.

"Come on what?"

"Let's dance."

"Dance with yourself."

Daddy grinned. "Don't make me carry you up here, Abby," he said, standing under the dim light.

Mommy hugged me tighter, I farted, and she frowned at Daddy. After some time, she gave in. She began tearing up. She placed me down, wiped her tears away, then came to Daddy.

_And I guess I never told you_

_I'm so happy that you're mine_

_Little things I should've said and done_

_I just never took the time_

_You are always on my mind…_

They swayed quietly though eloquently under the light. They were not as close to each other as some people are when they dance, but it can make-do. They listened to each other, but none of them spoke. Daddy tried to understand Mommy while she sobbed.

_The little things I should've said and done_

_I just never took the time_

_But you are always on my mind_

_You are always on my mind…_

"You did hear that I just said _liked,_ right?" Daddy asked quietly. "Abby?"

She nodded, and then sniffed.

"I could like her as much as I want, but I'd never love her." Daddy stopped. "You're my girl, Abby. I will always love _you_."

Mommy stopped. She wasn't sure whether to look at Daddy or not, I could tell, because she bit her lip and kept attempting to lift her eyes up, only to fail at those several instances. "You're only saying that because you want me to keep on acting as your wife," Mommy sniffed. "Or maybe because you want me to do something. You want me to take care of Lex Luthor up there."

Daddy chuckled. "No."

She glowered up at him. "Then what, Tony? Just come straight out and tell me. You've only said that 143 message to one girl before, and I doubt that you'd say that to me and mean it." She looked down, distraught. "I'm…just your friend. More than ten years. We've been friends. It'll stay like that, I think. And you know that I do have my flares for the L-word. Oh, what am I thinking? Maybe it's just that. Yeah. Just that. I got a bit carried away from your gigantic revelation about you and Ziva, then the couple thing." Mommy shook her head, laughing. "I don't believe in marriage anyways."

"Really?" Daddy grinned. " 'Cause you know, I would like to think that you enjoyed being a wife. And you were pretty good at it, Love Bunny."

Mommy laughed. She thought about what Daddy said, and I knew she agreed, but something in her was telling her otherwise. Daddy took a glance at her eyes, and based on his smile he caught it. "It's just a favor for you," Mommy said, hiding her doubt. "You're my friend. I have to do my best for you."

_Tell me_

_Tell me that your sweet love hasn't died_

_And give me_

_Give me one more chance _

_To keep you satisfied…_

"You've been a great wife during our stay here in Columbus, Abby," Daddy said, surprisingly, sincerely. "I really hope that when we come back at DC, we'd give this a try. I think it might be great, too."

Mommy gazed at him, making sure he was earnest . Then, she drew towards him, finally letting him hold her as they surrendered to the music.

That was the last thing I remembered, 'cause I think I've just passed out with Daddy and Mommy's moment. Even if it was a wretched plan to lock us up at the cellar, that became a bridge for Daddy and Mommy to try out something they have desired before. Like I've said, it was always in their eyes, never at their lips. At that moment, it came out with the moves they took, and the answers they made.

And their semi-arguments were not remembered anymore when they got out that evening. They were back at being sweet and loving, back to **Honey Doodle **and **Love Bunny**. I really don't know yet if they're serious that time. *sigh* I guess it's a Daddy-Mommy thing.

_**Signed,**_

_**Bert the Hippo**_

_**8:37 AM**_

_**Yeah…About that…**_


	9. Conclusion to the Hippo Diary

**_Disclaimer:_****_ NCIS and its characters belong to their rightful owners._**

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**Conclusion to the Hippo Diary**

**-Breaking Rules, Daddy-Mommy, and Happily Ever After! (Sort of)-**

I've learned from this one book that everything does not have to have a **happily ever after**. After all, almost everything is not definite. They wouldn't be the same when I tell you about it now compared to when I tell you about it years later.

_Life keeps changing._

Like right now. You would think that Daddy, Mommy, McGee, and Ziva would really keep their relationship quiet throughout. But they didn't. :P Sir Gibbs found out. How? I don't know. They got the sermon of a lifetime about **Rule Number 12 **that day, and both Daddy and McGee got head-slapped.

That same night, all of them had dinner together at home. Kind of like a **double-date**, house food version.

And to think that my Daddy and McGee almost flew to next week with all of those **Gibbs-slaps**.

**Jimmy** is still Jimmy, as far as I've heard. He's still with **Brina**, and I do think they're happy with each other.

**Doctor Ducky **had been recovering with the loss of his mom. The **movie nights **at his house thatDaddy and Mommy initiated helped to fulfill that at least by a bit.

**Sir Gibbs **is still the team leader I prefer. Not Edward nor Jacob. I don't know what happened to his boat, but I still imagine that he listened to **Madame Shannon's **and **Miss Kelly's **voices at night or when he missed them.

**McGee and Ziva**, the last time I saw them, are very happy with each other. They are always supportive of each other. They have their cute moments, but they came into consensus that it would be cuter if Gibbs didn't see it at NCIS. So he didn't. They were content with that.

**Daddy and Mommy **are warming up to each other. Daddy came every night to visit Mommy. Mommy would make him something. Then they would **talk**. I really wish they would admit that they like each other, but at this moment they still have not. No matter. I still have my hopes up.

I mean, they do tell each other **good night and 143 **(seriously; they say 143) every day. That's gotta count for something, right?

Anyways, as much as I would love to tell you everything that will happen next, I can't. Not even some of the things that happened in between those ones that I've told you.

My story, their story, and your story, it's filled with wonderful and unbelievable things almost every single second. Sure, you can choose a moment where we think something—if not everything—changed, and if it was read by another individual I'm absolute they'll be touched. But a story looking at all the frames of our life, it's something that cannot be conveyed through an exhaustible ink and mere piece of paper. It is contained inside our minds, anticipated by our hearts, and moved by our words and actions.

So, that's my diary for now!

**Bert's Last Sign Off!**

**12:46 AM**

**Oh, look! It's January the 19****th****! **

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**__****Thanks to everyone that read this story of mine! I do hope that you've enjoyed them. **

**_Well, m093 up and out! =)_**


End file.
